


The Hispanic JFK

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Matt Santos has been compared to JFK because he is a young, attractive, athletic Democrat. But what about the sex?





	The Hispanic JFK

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

EPISODE 8.10 - Written by Jo March

THE HISPANIC JFK

TEASER

INT. MSNBC STUDIOS

WEDNESDAY, 9:50 P.M.

"There's an old saying, Rita, that I think explains why I switched parties." Chris Carrick leaned back in his seat, obviously enjoying the interview. "'I'm not a member of any organized political party; I'm a Democrat.'" 

The reporter laughed politely before asking the next question. "And do you think that saying still applies, Senator? After all, President Santos has a high approval rating. His education bill, the centerpiece of his campaign platform, just passed. Some observers would say that it's the Republicans who are in disarray."

Carrick grinned. "Those observers need to look more closely. Santos is still in the honeymoon phase. It won't be long before his inexperience shows. Yes, the education bill passed, but that had little to do with Matt Santos' leadership abilities. It was all about Josh Lyman and his cronies strongarming the many Democrats who spoke out against the bill. And that includes their own legislative liaison, who was fired for her independent thinking."

As Carrick expected, his interviewer took the bait. "So you believe there's a rift within the Santos administration?" 

"Well, Rita, it's not like I'm invited to their parties." Carrick chuckled while mentally acknowledging the nod of approval his chief of staff was giving him off-camera. The interview was headed exactly where they want it to go. "The spirit of bipartisanship doesn't apply to moderate Republicans who used to be Democrats. But when you look at what's gone on since Santos took office—you've got an inexperienced president who seems more interested in image than in governing. The image is appealing—the young, athletic president with his beautiful wife and his photogenic children. It may seem like the second coming of Camelot, but behind the scenes there's a debacle that rivals the Bay of Pigs. Maybe if the President would pay as much attention to the war in Kazakhstan as he does to his touch football game, our troops would be home by now."

Out of the corner of his eye, Carrick noticed the whispered conversation going on behind the camera. Terry, his chief of staff, was whispering to an office gofer. Terry looked especially concerned. Carrick forced himself to concentrate on the interview, where he was just about to get the question he'd been waiting for.

"Senator, our time is almost up, but I can't let you go without asking this last question. There's been talk that you're considering running for your party's nomination in 2010. Would you care to comment?"

Adopting his best "aw, shucks" expression, Carrick answered, "It's much too early to be discussing the next presidential election. I'm just focusing on doing the best job possible for the people of my state." 

"We've been talking to Senator Chris Carrick, author of the new book 'A Party of the Elite.' We'll be back after these messages."

As he undid his microphone, Carrick said a quick thank-you to the interviewer, then hurried to Terry's side.

"Senator," the chief of staff said, "I have some disturbing news. "It's about Claire."

CUT TO:

INT. RONNA'S APARTMENT

WEDNESDAY, 9:59 P.M.

"Did your father just diss my boss?"

"So it would appear." Claire sat her wine glass on the coffee table. "Is this going to be an issue for us?"

Ronna picked up Claire's glass and walked toward the kitchen. "Not unless he really does run for president. I'd just as soon not have my private life made public. Not to mention that having the Secret Service following us around would be disconcerting," she laughed.

A moment later, Ronna felt Claire's breath against her neck. "Well, then," Claire said as Ronna turned to face her. "In case we have to break up in a couple of years, I say we enjoy ourselves now." As she reached to take the glass out of Ronna's hand, Claire's arm brushed against her lover's breast. Ronna reached for Claire, pulling her in for a kiss. Neither woman noticed as the glass slipped out of Claire's hand, shattering against the floor.

CUT TO:

INT. JOSH AND DONNA'S BEDROOM

WEDNESDAY, 10 P.M.

"Son of a bitch!" Josh exclaimed.

Donna turned off her blowdryer and leaned around the corner of the bathroom door. "I told you not to watch it," she called out.

Josh plumped up the pillows he was leaning on. "Oh, like I had a choice," he muttered.

"Seriously." Donna came out of the bathroom, wearing a dark green silk nightshirt. "All he's going to say is 'Democrats bad, Republicans good.' Where's the news value in that?"

"They asked about 2010."

"Get used to it," Donna said as she climbed into bed. "They're going to ask every Republican that between now and the next New Hampshire primary."

Josh rolled onto his side and played with the buttons on Donna's nightshirt. "He said that I strong-armed people into signing the education bill."

Running her finger down Josh's bare chest, Donna smiled. "Technically, it was Sam who did the strongarming. Or is that the part that bothers you?"

Josh took his attention off the outline of Donna's nipples against the silk and asked, "Is *what* bothering me?"

"The fact that you have to be the diplomat now, not the guy who threatens the people's duly-elected representatives."

"Well," he admitted with a smile, "I was pretty good at it."

"You have a rare talent," Donna agreed, more than a hint of mockery in her voice.

He was just about to pull her closer when the phone rang. He rolled over and reached for it.

"Joshua," a familiar voice asked, "have you been threatening senators again?"

"No, Mom," he replied. He smothered a laugh at the speed with which Donna began buttoning her top when she realized Josh was talking to Judith Lyman. "I have people who do that for me now."

"Pity," his mother replied. "That Carrick man looks like he should be bullied more often."

"I'll make a note of it," Josh said. "What time does your plane get in tomorrow?"

"11:30. I'll take a cab to the White House."

"No, Donna's going to meet you at the airport," Josh insisted. "I'd do it myself, but it's kind of a hassle with the agents and all." He ran one hand lightly against Donna's bare leg. She swatted him away, raising her eyebrows and mouthing the words "not in front of your mother."

"It's not a problem, sweetheart," Judith Lyman assured him. "Donna's busy too. I'll take a cab."

"Really, Mom, she wants to do it." 

"I'm looking forward to it," Donna called out, loud enough for his mother to hear.

"I think she's got some sort of girly lunch thing planned," Josh explained.

"As long as it's no bother. I'll see you both tomorrow. Tell Donna I love her."

Josh said goodbye to his mother and turned his attention back to Donna. "My mother says she loves you. She never said that about any of my other girlfriends."

"Well, I love her too," Donna replied. "In fact, the only reason I'm hanging around with you is so I can spend time with her." 

"Okay," Josh said as he went back to unbuttoning Donna's nightshirt, "can that please be the last time we mention my mother when we're in bed?"

Five minutes later, Josh's lips were pressed to her collarbone and Donna's hand was moving underneath the waistband of his pajamas when the phone rang again.

"This had better be important," he muttered into the receiver.

Lou didn't bother to apologize. "Turn on Fox News right now," she said. "They're running a story about some woman named Anita Morales and whether the President is the father of her child."

SMASH CUT TO TITLES

ACT ONE

INT. JOSH AND DONNA'S BEDROOM

WEDNESDAY, 10:20 P.M.

"So Drudge has it too?" Josh asked.

Donna looked up from the computer screen and nodded. "Word for word. It's like they're playing from the same script."

Josh picked the phone back up. "Lou, you'll need to get Otto and Lester to come in."

"Already done," Lou replied. "Annabeth's here too."

"I'll call Sam. We'll meet in my office in thirty minutes."

"We'll need Annabeth," Donna added, her eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"She's already there," Josh answered.

"Josh?" He could hear the concern in Lou's voice. "Do you want me to call the Residence?"

The talking head on Fox News droned on. "...making monthly payments to a single mother who worked for the President when he was mayor of Houston."

Josh's brow furrowed as he considered the issue. "No," he said, "I'll talk to the President privately. Just get everybody together and meet me in my office."

Hanging up the phone, Josh turned back to Donna. "Just once," he said, "I'd like to get through the week without a crisis." 

Donna walked across the room and put her arms around him. "For what it's worth," she said, "I'm right in this with you."

He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "It's worth a lot."

He closed his eyes and savored the sensation of Donna's hands moving slowly down his back. The contact made him feel much more grounded, if not completely relaxed. Giving her a rueful smile, Josh broke off the embrace after a minute and focused his attention back on the crisis.

"You and I will have to go to the Residence first," he told Donna. "We can't let the President and Mrs. Santos hear this on TV." 

Under other circumstances, Donna's stunned expression would have made him laugh. "You want me to tell the First Lady that her husband's been accused of fathering another woman's child?"

"Breaking bad news is all part of the exciting life of a chief of staff," he said with a smirk.

Donna put her hands on her hips and gave him a look of mock indignation. "You could have mentioned that before you encouraged me to take the job."

He grinned at her, feeling suddenly energetic and eager to attack the problem. "Welcome to the big leagues, Ms. Moss." 

As she grabbed an armful of clothes and headed toward the bathroom, Donna called back over her shoulder, "Why does it feel like you're the coach and I'm the rookie you're sending in to take one in the head just to get on base?"

"Oh, you and I passed first base some time ago," Josh replied.

Still grinning, he sat back down on the bed and reached for the phone. Sam answered on the first ring. "I need you at the office right now," Josh told his deputy. "We've got a problem."

CUT TO:

INT. SAM AND LAUREN'S APT.

WEDNESDAY, 10:30 P.M.

Lauren sat on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling over the side. With her hair pulled back in a scrunci and her usual designer suit abandoned in favor of an USC t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, she looked more like a college student than a high-powered attorney. Setting the bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream she and Sam had been sharing on the nightstand, Lauren admitted to herself that their quiet evening at home wasn't going to happen.

"The White House has not issued any statement regarding the Morales matter," the Fox News anchor was saying. "However, according to an account on the Drudge Report..."

Sam paused in the middle of putting on his tie. "Oh, right, the Drudge Report," he said. "Now there's a reliable source. I swear I am going telling Lester to take this guy's press credentials away. If he wants news about the White House, he can just keep getting it from his internet cronies."

Lauren turned the TV off, moved to Sam's side and took over fastening his tie. "When did you become the guy who issues ultimatums to the press?" she asked. "The Sam Seaborn I fell in love with was so easygoing."

Sam hugged his fiancé. "Hey, it's not like I've suddenly turned into another person."

"No," Lauren replied, "it's been subtle. It's just been one little thing after another—not wanting to take any time off from work, coming home so wound up that you have trouble sleeping." She waved a hand in the direction of the television screen. "Yelling at TV reporters."

"'Yelling' might be an overstatement."

"That's not the point, Sam." Lauren moved toward the closet, reaching for Sam's jacket. "Look," she said as she handed it to him, "I understood when we moved here that it meant making some sacrifices; I get that. But I knew how you missed Washington. I could tell from the way you used to talk about Toby and CJ and Josh. I could tell by how torn up you were when Leo McGarry died. I know that politics is an important part of your life."

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that I don't like the changes I'm seeing in you," Lauren explained. "You're not as happy as you were back in California. You're more driven. I need to be with someone who has a sense of balance in his life, someone who can actually relax for one night and watch Humphrey Bogart movies instead of cable news."

Sam reached out for her. "Lauren—"

"Look," she said, waving him away, "don't worry about it. I've been concerned about some stuff, and I just picked the wrong time to bring it up. We can talk about this later."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said. "We can talk about it tomorrow."

She couldn't help but reflect on the fact that he was out the door before she'd finished the sentence.

CUT TO:

INT. FIRST FAMILY'S RESIDENCE

WEDNESDAY, 11 P.M.

"You know, Glenn, earlier this evening, Sen. Chris Carrick pointed out that Matt Santos likes to compare himself to John Kennedy," Jane Braun told a CNN reporter.

The two couples watching television in the living room of the Residence stared at the screen with expressions of indignation and concern. Donna, seated on the sofa next to Helen Santos, mentally composed the statement she and Annabeth would be called on to issue on behalf of the First Lady. Standing next to Donna, one hand resting on the arm of the sofa, Josh simultaneously evaluated the Republican response to the story and the First Couple's reaction to the charges. He hadn't been sure what to make of the fact that neither Matt nor Helen Santos seemed surprised by the allegations. He was relieved, however, that Helen clearly was supportive of her husband—hardly the response he'd expect if she believed her husband had been unfaithful.

"'Likes to compare'?" Helen repeated, shaking her head. "Matt's never compared himself to Kennedy. That's not even what Carrick said."

"Yeah, I think we've just discovered the latest Republican talking point," Josh responded.

Matt Santos, sitting on the armchair facing the TV, nodded glumly. He held up one hand, indicating that the others should stop talking. "I want to see where she's going with this," he explained before turning his attention back to CNN.

The reporter, it seemed, was smiling in agreement with Jane Braun. "As I recall," he told her, "the Senator made a remark about Matt Santos' notorious penchant for football."

Helen Santos was the only one who dared interrupt the program her husband was watching so intently. "One game on the front lawn hardly qualifies as a notorious penchant."

Judging from the smile Jane Braun was flashing, however, she must have been pleased with the reporter's characterization. "I'm sure Senator Carrick didn't mean it this way, but Matt Santos definitely seems to be emulating JFK's reputation as a lothario."

"I think we've all heard enough," Helen Santos announced. She stood up and switched off the television. Sitting back down, she turned to her husband. "I'm going to kill your brother," she remarked conversationally. 

Josh and Donna exchanged confused looks.

"You might as well know the whole story," Helen told them. "It's not JFK here who's the lothario. Yes, we've been helping out with Anita's child support, but that's because Jorge can't be counted on to take responsibility."

"So the President's brother had an affair with Ms. Morales?" Donna asked.

Helen nodded.

Donna's face lit up at the notion that the crisis had been averted, but Josh wasn't sure they were out of the woods. He turned his attention to the President. "I'm sorry to ask this, sir, but is there any proof that you're not the father?"

The President shook his head. "Considering that I never slept with Anita, I didn't think a paternity test was necessary. And before you ask—no, I'm not taking one now."

"I wouldn't expect you to, sir," Josh replied. "It's beneath the office of the President."

"So what do we do now?" Helen asked.

"We have several options," Josh said. "Lester can issue a blanket denial—"

"Which no one will believe," Donna pointed out. Helen looked at her in surprise, and Donna waved a hand in Josh's general direction. "He told me to play bad cop. He figured that the President is less likely to yell at me."

For the first time that evening, Matt Santos smiled. "Smart man," he replied.

"Still, sir," Donna continued, "the unpleasant fact is that many people will believe the worst if they're not given proof to the contrary."

"The best thing would be for Anita Morales to tell her story to the press," Josh said. "Always assuming that she's willing to confirm your story." After all, there are a number of tabloids that would pay her to say she slept with you."

Helen turned to her chief of staff. "I thought he was the good cop," she said to Donna.

Donna shrugged. "It's a new experience for him. He's still getting the hang of it."

Santos, however, did not seem as amused as his wife. "Are you suggesting that I'm lying?"

"No, sir," Josh assured him. "I believe you. It's just that I don't know Anita Morales, but I do know that there are a number of tabloids that would pay her say she slept with you."

Helen moved to her husband's side and took his hand. "Even if Anita explained the situation," she asked, "would anyone believe her?"

"Some people would," Donna replied. "And at least we'd have her first-hand testimony to run against the allegations."

The President shook his head. "I don't see any reason to invade Anita's privacy just because she had the misfortune to fall for my brother."

"Due respect, sir," Josh said. "Ms. Morales' privacy is already being invaded."

"If I were her," Donna added, "I would at least want to defend myself from the accusations that I'd slept with a married man."

"There are ways to make the truth public without involving Ms. Morales," Josh pointed out.

"Like what?" Helen asked.

"We have someone—Lester or Annabeth, probably—tell a reporter the full story under the condition that the statement not be attributed to anyone in the White House," Josh explained. "Our story starts picking up momentum just like the Drudge Report item. It's not definitive proof, of course, but it will get other reporters investigating and at least it won't just be a Republican hatchet job."

Santos, however, looked resolved. "Lester can state that any rumors about my infidelity are baseless. He's not to say anything about my brother or Anita. And he certainly is not allowed to lie about the payments I made to Anita." At Helen and Donna's exchange of looks, he added, "That goes for Annabeth as well."

CUT TO:

INT. CHIEF OF STAFF'S OFFICE

WEDNESDAY, 11:15 P.M.

"My money's on Carrick," Otto said. "After that JFK crack—"

"I'm telling you, it's this Morales woman," Lester replied. "She has the most to gain from the whole thing."

Seated between Otto and Lester on the sofa, Lou reflected that if she spent one more minute twisting her head back and forth between the two debaters, she'd have a bad case of whiplash. "Oh, lord," she moaned, "would you two forget about who gave Drudge the damn story?" She moved to sit behind Josh's desk. "We need a statement. Now."

Sitting across from Otto and Lester, Sam and Annabeth nodded in agreement. "My phone's been ringing off the hook," Annabeth said. "Even if we can't make a final decision until Josh gets here, we can at least come up with a first draft."

"You want us to come up with some options to give Josh?" Otto asked. "Plan one, plan b, that kind of

thing?" 

The yawn that Lou had been unsuccessful at stifling suddenly turned into a laugh. "One and b?" she asked.

Otto shrugged. "You know what I mean."

"Okay," Lou said, "how about plan one is 'there is no truth to the allegation.' Plan b is a plain no comment. Plans two and c are versions of mea culpa. You know, just in case it's true."

And there it was, Lou thought. She'd mentioned the elephant in the room. Everyone looked away from each other and fell silent as they contemplated what would happen if it could be proved that the nation's vital new president was, in fact, just a little *too* vital.

Luckily, before the silence could get even more awkward, Josh and Donna entered the room. Everyone started asking questions at once.

"Was he angry?"

"What about Mrs. Santos?"

"Does he know who leaked the story? Was it Carrick?"

"Forget that. Is it true?"

"Would you all please be quiet?" Josh yelled.

Once again, the room fell silent.

Donna took a seat between Sam and Annabeth. Josh walked to his desk. He stood there for a moment, staring at Lou. Lou craned her neck up at him and raised her eyebrows. Folding his arms, Josh said, "Did someone promote you, Louise?"

Lou grudgingly gave up the chair and moved back to the sofa. Nudging Lester, she forced him to move so she didn't have to sit in the middle of another debate.

"What's going on?" Donna asked Annabeth.

"We were debating who leaked the story," the First Lady's press secretary replied. "Then the question of whether the story is true came up and, well, that was kind of a conversation stopper."

"It's not true," Josh said. He had that tone in his voice, Lou noticed, the one he'd no doubt learned from Leo McGarry—the one that made it clear no argument would be tolerated. "As for who leaked the story," he continued, "don't even try going there. Once you start calculating who knew what you've implicated everyone from the bank teller who cashed the checks for Anita Morales to the President's second-cousin-once-removed. Our job is to get in front of this story before it gains any more momentum."

Lou nodded. "Even a non-denial denial is better than no comment."

"It won't be a non-denial denial," Josh insisted. "The President did not have sex with Anita Morales. He did not father her child. Make sure that message gets out."

Maybe it was because Sam was a lawyer, Lou thought, or maybe it was just because he knew Josh so well. Either way, Sam was the one who immediately understood what Josh wasn't saying.

"So he did write the checks?" Sam asked.

"Yes, he wrote the checks," Josh admitted. He turned to Lester. "The President wants to make it clear that you're not to lie about that. I, on the other hand, am making it clear that you're to find a way around answering that part of the question."

"Josh." Sam shook his head. "You can't believe that will work. Do you think no one will notice that we aren't answering questions about the check?" 

 

Josh shrugged. "CJ could have managed it."

"Not this early in the administration she couldn't have," Sam replied, "and even on her best day, she couldn't have danced around it indefinitely."

Josh ran a hand through his hair, his frustration obvious. "I know that Sam," he said. "But for now, that's the way we have to play it." He turned to Lester. "You're just going to have to do your best to keep the press from asking about the checks until I can talk to the President again."

Lester sighed. "Someone explain to me again why taking this job was a good idea."

ACT TWO

INT. DONNA'S CAR

THURSDAY, 11:40 A.M.

"...White House Press Secretary Lester Charles said. In other news..."

Donna turned off the radio and glanced at Josh's mother. "Sorry," she said. "But I had to check on how the morning press briefing went." 

When Judith Lyman smiled, it was clear how much her son resembled her, right down to the dimples and the way her eyes sparkled. She and Josh had the same curly hair, although Mrs. Lyman's had faded to an attractive salt-and-pepper combination.

"Don't worry, Donna," she said, "I'm just sorry you had to leave the office on my account. I can only imagine what today must be like for you and Josh, with all this nonsense going on."

"Believe me," Donna laughed, "it feels wonderful to get away for an hour or two. It's been insane ever since that ridiculous gossip item showed up on the internet."

Judith stared at the copy of USA Today she had picked up in the Miami airport. "Reports Claim Santos Fathered Love Child," the headline above the fold read. "I don't understand this," she said, shaking her head. "There wasn't a hint of all this on the news last night, but it's all over the media this morning. You know how those TV sets are all over the airports these days?"

Once she'd decided she could safely change lanes, Donna nodded.

"This seemed to be the only story they were covering. And the newspapers—all the headlines I saw were about this. Yet when you read it, there's nothing more than some fool on the Internet claiming that someone gave him a story for which there isn't any proof. How is this news?"

"It's news because nobody wants to be scooped," she explained. "Drudge reports it; Fox picks it up. CNN reports the fact that Fox is reporting it; the morning papers report that it's being reported. By the time the Today Show and Good Morning, America come on, it's the major story of the day. Josh is certain that whoever leaked the item did it in the middle of the night, hoping that we wouldn't be able to construct a response this quickly."

"He must be going crazy trying to figure out who started this."

Donna pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant where she'd made lunch reservations. "Actually, he's surprisingly calm about the whole thing," she said. "He's hardly frazzled at all."

The dimples in Judith's cheeks became more pronounced. "That's directly related to your influence, dear."

Turning off the car's engine, Donna unfastened her seatbelt and turned to smile at Josh's mother. "You may be giving me too much credit," she said.

"Not at all," Judith said, patting Donna's hand. "In fact, I'm not sure I'd be making this particular visit if I didn't know I could rely on your common sense where Josh is concerned."

Donna was puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I have something very important to share with Josh," Judith explained, "something that I'm sure will upset him. I'm not certain I'd have the nerve to tell him if you weren't here to help him deal with it."

CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE OF THE PRESS SECRETARY

"I come bearing food," Ronna announced, waving two bags of Chinese takeout in Lester's direction.

Lester looked up from his notes and grinned at Ronna. "Thank God you aren't a reporter. I'm running out of ways to say 'he didn't cheat on his wife.'"

Sitting down in the visitor's chair, Ronna set the bags down on the desk. "Actually, you may not be so pleased when I tell you why I'm here."

Lester opened a box of chicken lo mein and reached for the chopsticks. "What's the problem?" he asked.

"I'm gay."

Lester grinned. "I know. You made that clear when I asked you out in New Hampshire."

"And," she added, ignoring Lester's remark, "I got a call this morning from Lipstick magazine. They plan to do a story on me. Can they do that? Without my permission, I mean."

Lester took another bite of the lo mein and nodded.

Ronna looked down, absently tapping the chopsticks against the desk. "They wanted some quotes from me—what it's like to be a gay woman working in the White House, that sort of thing. On the plus side, you'll be glad to know that I resisted the urge to tell them it's pretty much the same as being a straight woman working in the White House."

"So what did you tell them?" Lester asked.

"I didn't say anything, just gave them an excuse about being too busy to talk. But the reporter said she'd call back." Ronna leaned forward and looked at Lester intently. "Look, I know you told me to expect something like this after that conversation you guys had with Bram's friend Trey, but I didn't really expect anyone would call me. It's not like I'm part of the senior staff or something." She took a deep breath and began again. "I don't want to do anything that will harm the President, especially with all this other stuff going on. But I won't lie about who I am. I guess what I'm asking you, Lester, is whether you think I need to resign."

CUT TO:

INT. DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF'S OFFICE

THURSDAY, NOON

"Of course, it's easy to see why so many people believe that Matt Santos might have had an affair with Anita Morales."

Even on the 10-inch TV screen in his office, Sam could make out Mary Marsh's self-satisfied smile. He wondered why the interviewer wasn't picking up on her obvious glee.

Marsh, however, continued her hatchet job on the Santos administration without admonishment. "Just look at the company our new president keeps," she said. "His chief of staff is living in sin with Mrs. Santos' chief of staff."

Josh, sitting in the visitor's chair of his former office, turned to Sam. "'Living in sin'? You gotta ask yourself how long she's been waiting to use that line."

Sam motioned for Josh to be quiet as Marsh's diatribe continued.

"The deputy chief of staff is notorious for his liaison with a high-priced hooker," she said.

That was enough for Sam. He got up, almost punching the on-off switch as he turned the TV off.

"How long am I going to be the guy who slept with a call girl?" he asked. "At what point will they stop bringing up that story?" 

Josh shrugged. "It's politics. You make enemies. They go for your weak spot. Get used to it."

Sam sat back down and swiveled his chair around so that he was facing Josh. "You're in good humor, all things considered."

"Living with Donna helps." Josh grinned, then took a bite out of his sandwich. "Besides, after the staff meeting last night, Donna pointed out that someone was bound to mention us in this context—a pattern of illicit behavior and all that. I freaked out, she calmed me down, I can deal now." He shrugged, then added, "I still want to punch a wall, but I can deal."

Sam nodded his understanding. "It's just that I thought this would never come up again. I mean, if I ran for office again, maybe. But—"

Josh leaned forward. "Is that why you didn't run for office again? The call girl thing?"

This was one of those things Josh would never understand, Sam reflected. Josh's world revolved around politics. After he'd lost the Congressional election, Sam had been inundated with emails and phone calls from Josh, all filled with advice and strategy for Sam's next run for office. Josh's advice had been to stay in California, get a job with a high-powered law firm and make a name for himself, then run for statewide office before trying for the House or Senate again. Sam had gone as far as getting back into law, but then he'd met Lauren and his priorities had changed.

"I'm getting married, Josh," he pointed out. "I can't just think about myself. Lauren and I want to have a family. This isn't the whole story about my past—it isn't something I could easily explain to my children."

Josh crumpled up the remnants of his lunch and tossed them into the wastebasket. "I'm only going to say this once," he told his deputy. "You're the kind of guy who should be running for office. You're smart, you're idealistic as hell, you know how the system works. If you don't *want* to run again, that's one thing. But if it's the call girl thing that's holding you back, that's not a major problem. There are ways to deal with it. Any good political strategist could help you with that. Explaining it to your kids"—he shrugged—"I don't know how you do that, but people have to tell their kids worse stuff. Ask Toby." Josh walked to the door of his old office, paused, and turned to face Sam. "It's one thing not to run again if you hate the idea of being in office. But if you're avoiding it because your opponent might bring up this old story—well, that's not the Sam Seaborn I know."

CUT TO:

INT. DONNA'S OFFICE

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

"Josh's mother is there?" Donna could hear the combination of amusement and irritation as she listened to CJ's voice over the phone. "You mean I'm missing a visit from Judith the Great?"

That was vintage CJ, Donna thought—always bestowing nicknames on the people she cared about. She turned to Judith Lyman. "CJ says hello."

Mrs. Lyman paused in her examination of Donna's office. "Hello, Claudia Jean," she called out.

"Hear that?" Donna asked CJ.

"Yes, but I'm gravely disappointed not to be there."

Donna laughed. "Why? Are you nostalgic for the good old days? Watching Lester's briefings and wishing that were you facing a roomful of ravenous reporters?"

"God, no. Don't get me wrong; there are times when I really do miss that podium. Today, however, I am very glad that it's somebody else's headache. I called to ask for a favor, actually. Is there anything important scheduled for July 10?"

Donna pulled out her appointment book, assuming that CJ was putting together some event she wanted the First Lady to attend. "No," Donna replied. "It looks like the day is free."

"Good. Very good." Whatever was happening on July 10, Donna thought, it must be important, judging from the excitement in CJ's voice. "I need you to come out here and be my maid of honor."

"What?" Donna jumped up, knocking over her appointment book and a glass of water in the process. "You're getting married?"

Judith Lyman gasped, then began motioning until Donna gave her the phone. "You're marrying that nice reporter?" she asked.

All those years as an assistant, Donna thought as she mopped up the water, and I forget there's such a thing as speaker phone. As she reached back up and punched a button on the phone, CJ's voice echoed throughout the office. "So, definitely, Judith, We want you to be there."

"My dear," Josh's mother replied, "I wouldn't miss it."

"You realize that Josh and Sam are going to give you about ten kinds of grief," Donna told CJ. "These are the guys who think that putting turkeys in your office was the high point of their careers. A wedding's going to provide them with any number of opportunities for wacky hijinks."

"See what you did there?" Not even the threat of Josh and Sam's antics could dampen CJ's mood. "I haven't had a headache since I left the White House, and now I'm going to have to go buy some extra-strength Advil."

"Just trying to help," Donna said. Sitting back down, she added, "Honestly, CJ, I'm thrilled for you and Danny. And, yes, I'll be your maid of honor." 

"Great," she said. "Don't mention this to anyone besides Josh yet, would you? I have some calls to make. Toby..." Her voice trailed off.

"Yeah." Donna wasn't sure where matters stood between CJ and Toby these days, but she knew that they shared an incredibly complicated history.

"Hey," CJ said before she hung up, "Tell Lester he's doing just fine with this Morales story. And if there's anything I can do..."

"You're my first phone call." Donna smiled. "As always."

 

CUT TO:

INT. RESIDENCE BEDROOM

THURSDAY NIGHT

"...footage taken outside the school shows the young girl who is rumored to be Matt Santos' daughter," the reporter said.

"You know, Brian," the anchor replied, "she certainly bears a remarkable resemblance to young Miranda Santos."

Helen Santos reached across the bed for the remote. She turned the sound down, all too aware that Miranda and her brother were playing in the next room. "This is getting out of control," she told her husband.

Matt nodded. "My brother called today. He wants to know why I haven't put a stop to this."

"Are you joking?" Helen looked for something to throw at the wall. Unfortunately, everything around her seemed to be a priceless antique that was, technically, the property of the American people. "If he's so upset, why doesn't he just go to the press and explain the situation himself?"

"The possibility doesn't seem to have occurred to him." Matt smiled and handed Helen the briefing book he'd been reading. "Try this," he suggested.

Helen pitched the book against the wall and watched as it landed on the floor. After a moment's silence, she told Matt, "This damn story isn't going to go away, you know."

"I realize that now," Matt admitted. "I assumed that if we didn't say anything, the press would let it go. Obviously, they won't."

"And Anita and her daughter are caught in the middle," Helen said, "through no fault of their own. We'll have to explain all this to Peter and Miranda; they're going to be hearing about it at school."

Matt sighed. "I hate doing that. Despite everything, they love their Uncle Jorge. The image of him as a deadbeat dad is going to upset them."

"I don't know whether to cancel my speech tomorrow. Donna and Annabeth think the press is going to be clamoring for a statement. Every version of 'I trust my husband' that we can think of comes out sounding like I'm incredibly naive."

"Josh says that the longer this story's news, the more trouble we'll have getting any kind of support on the Hill. It could set us back months, depending on how long it takes for the media to get tired of this thing."

The First Couple sat silently, each trying to come up with a solution. Finally, Helen said, "You know, Donna had an idea..." 

CUT TO:

INT. JOSH'S APARTMENT

THURSDAY NIGHT

"So, Mom, you're a voter..."

Donna gathered up the empty dishes. When Judith moved to help, Donna put a hand on her shoulder. "Stay there," Donna said. "I want to hear where your son is going with this."

"You're actually an important demographic," Josh leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and continued. "Record numbers of retirees—" 

"I hate that word," his mother replied.

Josh grinned at her. "Elderly?" He looked up at Donna, eyes twinkling, as though he were saying, "Let's see what Mom does with that." 

Judith leaned back in her own chair and replied conversationally. "I'm not so elderly that I can't still smack you, young man."

Donna laughed as Josh sat up straight and politely suggested, "Women in their prime?"

His mother inclined her head in agreement. "Good boy."

"The thing is that retir...women in their prime...are voting in record numbers. The conventional wisdom says they rely heavily on the mainstream media and that value-related issues are important to them. So, you know, this thing about the President..."

"Is of very little importance," his mother answered.

"Really?"

"Yes, Joshua, really." Judith stood up and took a handful of dishes. But instead of following Donna into the kitchen, she handed the dishes to Josh and sat back down. "Despite what I'm sure you want to call our advanced age, we still have brains. We can tell that there is no evidence to back this story up. And even if there were, what does it have to do with whether the man is a good president?"

Josh placed the dishes in the sink and called back over his shoulder, "What about your friends? What are they likely to think?"

Judith reached for her wine glass and took a sip. "Josh, you can't assume that all people my age will think the same way or vote the same way or—" 

"Yes, Mom, I know this." Josh reached for an unopened bottle of wine while Donna searched the shelves for clean glasses. Josh held up the bottle of wine he'd selected. Donna shook her head, reached into the cabinet and handed him a more expensive brand. As they walked back to the dining area, Josh gestured to his mother to follow them to the living room. Soon, Donna and Josh were sitting side by side on the couch, with Judith on the armchair across from them.

Josh smiled at his mother as he continued the conversation. "You have to subdivide the demographic categories—you know, Jewish women in their prime, Catholic women in their prime..."

"If all these hypothetical women have anything in common," Judith said, "it's that they're on fixed incomes. Who the President may have slept with concerns them less than whether they can afford to pay their bills."

Josh leaned back, his hand resting on Donna's knee. "Well, you say that, but the data suggest something else."

"Did you ever consider that the data are wrong?" his mother asked.

"Not actually, no."

Donna grinned at Josh's mother. "Was his father this obstinate?"

"My dear," Judith said, "Josh is much more easygoing than his father ever was."

Donna nearly choked on her wine. "You're kidding," she finally managed to say.

"You forget that Noah was a litigator, dear," Judith explained. "Josh is a politician. I'm sure he has to compromise occasionally."

"I can give you the names and phone numbers of quite a few members of Congress who would disagree with you," Donna laughed.

Judith picked up her wine glass and stared into it for a moment. "Of course," she said, "I always loved Noah most when he was fired up about whatever case he was working on. He had such passion for the law." She smiled sadly. "And for his family." Smiling at Josh, she said, "As proud as he'd be of everything you've accomplished, do you know what he'd be bragging to all his friends about?"

Josh swallowed hard and shook his head.

"That this intelligent, beautiful woman has chosen to share your life," Judith told him.

Donna thought Josh was tearing up. Of course, she reflected, it was difficult to be sure when she was close to crying herself. She gave Josh's hand a quick squeeze as she fought back the tears.

"I know how much you miss him," Judith continued. "I do too. And that will never change. Noah Lyman was the great love of my life, and there have been days when I didn't know how I could go on without him."

Josh looked away from his mother, whether out of guilt or because he didn't want to burden her with his own grief, Donna couldn't tell.

"I should have spent more time with you," he told Judith.

"First of all, son, I refuse to become one of those mothers who clings to her grown children. Second, I have always had good friends to lean on. You never have to worry about my being alone. In fact, it's time I told you something important."

Judith Lyman took a deep breath as though gathering her courage. "Josh," she said, "your mother has a boyfriend."

ACT THREE

INT. JOSH'S APARTMENT

Josh jumped off the couch and stared at his mother, a mixture of disbelief and horror on his face. "What did you just say?"

"I said, dear, that I have a boyfriend." Judith thought for a moment, then smiled. "Although I suppose that, at my age, 'gentleman friend' might be the more appropriate term."

Under normal circumstances, Donna reflected, her reaction would probably have been along the lines of "you go, girl!" The fact that this was her boyfriend's mother—and that Josh was notoriously bad at accepting change—complicated the issue. She decided to get the essential information before Josh had a total meltdown.

"That's great news, Judith," she said. She tugged on Josh's hand, pulling him back onto the couch. "Tell us all about him. What's his name? How did you meet?" With a quick look at Josh, she added, "Is he a Democrat?"

"His name is Nicholas Pizaro," Judith began.

Josh quickly interrupted her. "Pizaro? You mean he isn't even Jewish?"

"Neither is Donna, dear," Judith replied, her tone somewhere between amused and perturbed.

"I just meant I thought you'd care about that," Josh replied. Donna found herself amused by how quickly his mother had put him on the defensive.

"If you will allow me to continue," Judith said. "We met, you will be happy to know, while I was picketing the NRA last year."

"Oh, yeah, I'm pleased as punch about that," Josh muttered.

"My point is that you would approve of his politics."

"You were picketing the NRA?" Donna asked.

"This was while you were working for Bingo Bob," Josh explained. "In fact, I was living in fear that you guys would find out and turn it into a thing."

Donna stared at him. "You know I wouldn't have done that."

"Okay," he admitted, "I was afraid Will would turn it into a thing. I was afraid you'd fly out and join Mom on the picket line."

Donna nodded and turned to Judith. "You should have called me."

"Next time," Judith promised.

"Mom," Josh asked, "do you know anything about this guy other than that he's in favor of gun control?"

"Why, no, Joshua." His mother's voice dripped sarcasm. "In almost a year of dating, I have learned nothing more about him."

"A *year*?" Donna and Judith both winced at how loud Josh's voice became. Letting go of Donna's hand, he jumped off the couch once again. "You didn't tell me about this for a year?"

"I thought you might become upset," Judith explained. "I can't imagine why I would have thought that," she added sarcastically as she watched Josh pacing back and forth again.

"But a year, Mom." Josh whirled around to face her. "It was his idea, right? Not to tell me?"

"No, Josh, it was my idea." Judith took another sip of wine and continued. "I didn't want you to start obsessing over this when you were in the middle of a campaign. It certainly would have been pointless to mention it before I knew whether we would hit it off."

"The campaign ended months ago, Mom," Josh pointed out.

"And that was when we lost Leo," she reminded him. "That dear man was like a second father to you. The timing just didn't seem right. Now, however, you're settled in your new job, you have Donna, and I am certain that Nicholas will be part of my life for some time to come."

Josh sat down beside Donna again, deflated. She rubbed his back and asked again, "So, Judith, where is Nicholas from?"

"He was born in Boston--"

"See, Josh?" Donna interrupted. "You love Boston."

"Yeah, that's a real comfort under the circumstances."

"He was married for twenty-six years," Judith continued. "His wife passed away three years ago."

"Did you find out the cause of death?" Josh asked. He stood up and began to pace yet again. "Was it suspicious? Was there a big insurance payoff?"

Judith glared at her son until he sat down next to Donna and lowered his eyes. "Sorry."

"He has three children—two boys, one girl. And before you ask, Josh, yes, they are all gainfully employed and there are no outstanding warrants under any of their names."

"See," Josh told her, "you say that as a joke, but it's the kind of thing you really should check." Donna, half afraid that Josh would place an immediate call to the FBI, put a hand over his arm.

"He would very much like to meet my son," she continued. Smiling at Donna, she added, "And the young woman I love like a daughter. I thought that perhaps the two of you could take a weekend off next month and visit. If that isn't practical, we could come here."

Judith stood up and walked toward the guest bedroom. She turned back to Josh and smirked, "Of course, it's only fair to warn you that Nicolas and I will be sharing a bed."

CUT TO:

INT. JOSH AND DONNA'S BEDROOM

"My mother is dating."

Donna rolled over and reached across Josh to switch the light on. "So this is going to be one of those nights where we don't sleep, huh?"

"You can make light all you want, but my mother is dating." He groaned and buried his head in his hands. "My mother is having sex."

"For what it's worth, Josh, I'm pretty sure she's done that at least twice before."

He raised his head and looked at her accusingly. "You're mocking my pain."

"I'm mocking your freak-out." She put her arms around him and pulled herself closer to him. "And I'm pretty sure she was teasing you with the thing about the bed."

He nodded. "It's just...you heard her talk about Dad. They were in love. Thirty-seven years together, and they were in love. She still loves him. How can she move on like that?"

"She's spent the better part of a decade without him," Donna pointed out. "And from everything I know about your father, I think he'd be happy that your mother's not alone."

"I think it's more likely that he'd be pissed off at being replaced."

Donna reached up and ruffled his hair. "Like father, like son."

For the first time since Judith's announcement, Josh smiled. "Damn straight," he said as he kissed her. "I never want another man near your body." 

Her hand moved slowly over his back as she said, "So I guess that threesome with Sam is out, huh?" She tried wiggling her eyebrows suggestively; but judging from Josh's laughter, she wasn't quite pulling it off.

"I'm trying to be serious here," he protested. "I swear to you that I will roll over in my grave if you start dating after I—" 

She covered his mouth with her hand. "Don't say it. Don't you *ever* dare say it."

Josh moved her hand away from his mouth and laced his fingers through hers. "My point is that I don't understand how Mom could—"

"She's not replacing him, Josh. She made that clear." She looked at their intertwined hands. "This connection between us...this will last even if one of us—"

"Don't you say it either."

She smiled. "Coward," she said affectionately. "And my point stands. Your father would want her to find happiness again. And he'd want you to be a good son and be supportive."

"Can I at least have the guy vetted?"

She turned the light off again. "Not until tomorrow morning."

CUT TO:

INT. WHITE HOUSE MESS

FRIDAY

He was trying to choose between the roast beef and the BLT when Sam heard someone calling his name. He opted for the roast beef and turned around to see Bram and Otto seated at a nearby table, motioning for him to join them.

"Explain the facts of life to young Otto here," Bram said as Sam took a seat.

"Excuse me?"

Bram leaned forward and addressed Sam in a mock whisper. "Young Andy Hardy here thinks it's impossible for a happily married man to stray."

Otto shook his head. "That is not what I said. My point was that President and Mrs. Santos aren't an average political couple. It's not like they're just together to further their careers. I do not believe he would cheat on her. Back me up on this, Sam."

Before Sam could answer, Bram jumped in. "Of course he would. And stop looking at me like I shot your puppy, Otto; it happens. Matt Santos has power; he has good looks. Trust me; there are plenty of women who find that combination irresistible."

Sam glared at Bram. "That's enough," he said. "I don't want to hear anymore of this. We're trying to contain this story. How are we supposed to do that if our own people are speculating about whether or not it's true?"

Both Bram and Otto looked contrite. Bram, especially, avoided making eye contact with Sam. "Sorry," he murmured.

"You should be. This is the kind of story that follows a person around for the rest of his life." His voice became louder and his gestures more animated as Sam worked himself into a state of righteous indignation. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ainsley watching him intently two tables away. "Working for the President means you have to be able to defend him against any kind of attack. And if the staff starts making jokes privately, it's hard to maintain your credibility when you have to defend him publicly. You have a huge opportunity here. You can serve our country, but you have to be loyal to your President."

He felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Turning around, he saw Ainsley giving him a concerned look. "Sam," she said softly, "come with me."

He let Ainsley lead him back to the office. As she took a soda out of her mini-fridge and handed it to him, Sam let out a sigh. 

"I overreacted back there, didn't I?" he asked.

"Maybe a little," Ainsley said. "I understand, I even applaud, your loyalty. But you're taking this too personally."

He shrugged and took a seat on the couch. "It's hard not to," he admitted. "I mean, okay, you know what happened when I ran for Congress?"

"You lost. You lost because it was Orange County," Ainsley said as she sat down beside him.

"Maybe. But once I started polling in double digits, all the press wanted to talk about was that I slept with a call girl. It certainly didn't help my campaign." He kept his eyes focused on the Coke can he was holding. "When I met Lauren, it was a challenge to win her over. Cause, see, she knew who I was and she'd heard the spin the press put on the thing with Laurie, so she figured I was just some slimeball who had to pay women to sleep with him. I spent weeks convincing her I wasn't the guy the

stories made me out to be. I guess that's when I realized that this story is going to follow me around no matter what else I do."

Ainsley put an arm around his shoulder. "People have lived down much worse, Sam," she assured him.

"Maybe."

"So this thing with President Santos is hitting close to home?"

"I just don't like seeing someone falsely accused," he answered. "Especially someone trying to do good." He leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes. "Why do people believe this stuff?"

"Because it's plausible," Ainsley said. "Did you know that some surveys have found that almost 50 percent of workers claim to have had some sort of office romance? And there are other studies that report increasing numbers of people who say they'd rather be at work than at home. They claim to have less stress at work."

Sam opened his eyes and smiled at her. "They've obviously never worked in the White House."

Ainsley walked back to the mini-fridge and took out two chocolate bars. She tossed one to Sam and began to peel back the wrapper on the one she'd kept for herself. "You spend that kind of time with someone, working toward a common goal, it is inevitable that sparks will occasionally fly. Sexual tension develops. Sometimes it leads to something serious. I mean, look at Josh and Donna. They are the classic example."

"They're the classic example of two people who didn't act on what they felt *because* they were working together. There's something to be said for self-restraint."

"Well, yes, but my point still stands. It's an emotional situation. Many people extrapolate from their own experiences and assume that an affair could have happened between the President and Ms. Morales." She paused and looked away from Sam. "I will admit that my own first thought was that the allegations could possibly be true. Because I too have had romantic feelings for a co-worker. But then I realized that those feelings, really, were more in the line of a harmless flirtation—one on which neither I nor the other party ever acted."

"What? You had a crush on some guy at that Republican think tank you worked at?"

When Ainsley looked back at him, she was smiling as though she found something particularly amusing. "Actually, Sam," she said, "I was referring to you."

"Me?" he asked. The attraction he'd felt toward Ainsley was something neither of them had acknowledged openly. He was surprised that Ainsley could refer to it so matter-of-factly.

"Not, mind you, that I ever expected anything of a sexual, or even a romantic, nature to develop between us," Ainsley continued. "But I always thought there was a definite attraction there. On both our parts. Was I mistaken?"

"No," Sam replied. He noticed that he was having trouble making eye contact with Ainsley. "No, of course not. I've always...I mean there were moments when..." He stood up, because increasing the physical distance between himself and Ainsley seemed like a good idea. "You're a good friend," he continued, "and I wouldn't want to jeopardize that. Because, you know, that can happen with the whole office-romance thing. And that would be terrible—losing the friendship, I mean, not the office romance. That would probably be great. Would have been great, that is. Before Lauren. And the part where I'm engaged. To Lauren."

He looked at Ainsley out of the corner of his eye and discovered that she was pursuing her lips, presumably so as not to laugh at him. "Yes," he said defensively, "I know I'm babbling. But I just didn't expect to hear you say...after all this time, I mean...I thought it was, you know, a mutual decision. Between the two of us. That we wouldn't pursue this thing. Attraction. That we both have."

Ainsley smiled. "I wasn't propositioning you, Sam. I was just saying that we're an example of how people who work together can become attracted to one another." Her smile became slightly melancholy. "I will, however, admit that sometimes I have speculated about what might have happened if we'd acted on our feelings—the road not taken and all that."

Sam wondered why he was having trouble catching his breath. He motioned toward the door. "You know, I really should go back downstairs. I do need to get something to eat before my 2 o'clock gets here. So I'll, uh, I'll see you later."

He hoped he was just imagining the laughter that followed him out the door.

CUT TO:

INT. FIRST LADY'S OFFICE

FRIDAY AFTERNOON

"You wanted to see me, ma'am?" Donna asked as she entered the First Lady's office.

Helen motioned for her Chief of Staff to take the seat across from hers.

"Yesterday," Helen said, "you mentioned talking to CJ Cregg."

Donna nodded.

"And you thought that she might have a way to help us with this mess?"

"Yes, ma'am," Donna replied. "Between CJ and Danny—"

"Danny?"

"Danny Concannon, CJ's fiance. He was with the Washington Post until recently. Between the two of them, they're friends with every major player in the media."

Helen walked over to the side table and poured herself a glass of water. Handing a second glass to Donna, she asked, "You're absolutely sure they can be trusted?"

"Positively," Donna replied without hesitation. "And CJ certainly understands our predicament. As bad as things are now, believe me, it's nothing compared to the PR nightmare she had to deal with when the public learned about President Bartlet's illness."

"All right then," Helen said. "We talked to Anita last night, and she's more than willing to go on the record. Once the press started hounding her daughter, she understood that this was the best way to handle the matter. What do we do now?"

"It's simple," Donna said. "I'll ask CJ and Danny to make contact with a reporter who can be trusted to handle the interview with Ms. Morales tactfully. After that, as long as Ms. Morales tells the truth, there shouldn't be anything to worry about." 

Helen sighed. "Such a simple solution—just have Anita talk to a reporter and explain the whole thing. If my husband weren't so stubborn, he could have saved us all a lot of grief by agreeing to this several days ago."

CUT TO:

INT. RONNA'S APARTMENT

FRIDAY NIGHT

"I have the advance copy." Claire waved the magazine pages in the air as she came through the door.

"How did you get those?" Ronna asked as she turned down the oven and grabbed the article out of her girlfriend's hand.

"I have my sources," Claire replied. "I read it on the way over here, and it's good." Sitting down on the couch, she patted the cushion next to her, indicating that Ronna should sit down. "It's flattering, even."

Ronna sat down, skimming the pages rapidly. "I don't know," she said, "the whole thing makes me uncomfortable."

"Why should it? You're working for a president who's even more liberal than Jed Bartlet, for goodness sake." The kitchen timer went off, and Claire got up to take the lasagna out of the oven. "He's not going to fire you over this," she called out.

"I know that," Ronna answered. "But it's a bad time for us. All these little lifestyle things, like Josh and Donna's relationship, being brought up by the Right. And now the story about Anita Morales."

Claire set two plates on the dining room table and went back for the silverware. "It's a flattering piece, and it's going to make Santos even more popular with the Left for his hiring practices. Don't worry."

"Maybe, but..." Ronna's voice trailed off. "Claire?" She called out. "Did you see this part?"

Claire came back to the living room. She leaned over the couch arm and glanced at the passage Ronna was pointing to. "Oh, the story about your mom's reaction when you told her you were gay? That's a great anecdote. It really humanizes the piece."

"Nobody knows that story," Ronna replied. She looked at Claire warily, as the pieces came together. "No one except you. I have never told another living soul that story."

Claire focused her attention on the article rather than meeting Ronna's gaze. "Are you sure? Maybe they talked to your brother."

"Ken doesn't know that story," Ronna insisted. "Dad doesn't know it. My sister Vicki doesn't know it. And I know that Mom wouldn't talk to any reporter, so don't even suggest it." She stood up and threw the article on the coffee table. "You had to have talked to the reporter. After I specifically asked you not to."

Claire reached out for Ronna's arm. "Look, okay, the reporter called and I gave her a couple of quotes. It's not a big deal."

"How did they even know to call you?"

Claire tried to laugh, but the attempt sounded hollow even to her own ears. "Okay, I confess," she said. "Lesley's an old friend of mine. I mentioned you, and she got excited about doing a story. I may have encouraged her, just a little."

"Why would you..." Ronna picked up the article again and started reading again. Finally, she got to the passage she was afraid she'd find. "She is currently dating Claire Carrick, daughter of Republican Senator Chris Carrick. Carrick, who has consistently voted against gay rights issues, refused to comment....Claire, you didn't."

"I didn't tell them to contact my father, no," she said. She stood, hands on her hips, staring defiantly at Ronna. "But I won't deny that I'm amused that they did. I can't wait until Dad has to explain this one to his conservative friends. That should take some explaining the next time he's having dinner with Jerry Falwell."

"Is that why you told the reporter about us? To embarrass your father?"

"Look, I love my father, but I can't stand his politics. Neither can you. And if explaining that he's been hiding the fact that his daughter is gay hurts him with the family-values crowd, where's the harm?"

"Where's the harm?" Ronna repeated. "The harm is that you used me to embarrass your father. You knew I didn't want my private life discussed in public, but you did it anyway. Just so you could score a few points on your father." She shook her head incredulously. "How could you do that?"

"I never meant to hurt you." Claire stepped closer to Ronna and started to put her arms around her. Ronna, however, slipped quickly out of her embrace and stood, arms folded, against the wall. "I know my father's politics, Ronna, and he'd be a terrible president. If I hurt his little media blitz, I'm not going to apologize for it."

Ronna stared at Claire for a moment, then walked to the door and held it open. "Goodbye, Claire," she said, "it was nice knowing you."

"You're kidding! This isn't the kind of thing people break up over."

"It's a betrayal of my trust. And that's certainly the kind of thing I break up over."

Claire picked up her purse. "Okay," she said, "you're angry right now; I get that. And I'm sorry if I hurt you. But once you calm down, you'll understand that I was right." She walked to the door. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Don't bother," Ronna said as she slammed the door.

ACT FOUR

INT. JOSH'S APARTMENT

FRIDAY NIGHT

"Dinner was delicious, Judith," Donna said as she started clearing the dishes off the table. "I can't believe you cooked all this." 

"Really, Mom," Josh said. He took the plates out of Donna's hands and took them to the kitchen. "We could have gone out to eat. Or, you know, called Papa John's."

"Indulge me," his mother replied. She followed Josh into the kitchen and picked up a plate of cookies. "It's not often I get to cook for my family these days."

"Right," Josh laughed. "Like you and Dad never ordered takeout for us."

"This is my point," Judith replied as she set the cookies on the coffee table. "Working couples don't have enough free time to prepare home-cooked meals every night. I thought I could treat the two of you tonight."

"Well, I, for one, am grateful," Donna replied. She took a seat on the couch, slipped her shoes off, and sighed. "I've been on my feet all day. It's wonderful to come home to good food and a house that smells like chocolate chips." She took a bite of a cookie and closed her eyes, savoring the taste. "These are fabulous."

"I'm glad you like them, dear," Judith said.

Josh sat down by Donna's side. Without thinking, he began gently rubbing her foot. "I've got an idea, Mom," he said. "You could move to DC and come over and cook for us every night."

"I've got a better idea," his mother replied. "I could go back home and not be at my son's beck and call."

"Hey, it was worth a try," Josh said with a shrug.

Judith grinned, her eyes focused on the tender way he was rubbing Donna's feet. "You know, son, I never thought I would see you so...content."

Donna noticed the way Judith was looking at them and squeezed on Josh's arm, signaling him that maybe they should stop being quite so content in front of his mother. "Josh," she asked, "wasn't there something you wanted to tell Judith?"

"Huh?" he asked.

"What we discussed last night," Donna reminded him.

"Yeah. Right." Josh cleared his throat and began, "So, Mom, I was kind of surprised yesterday when you mentioned your new friend..."

"His name is Nicholas, dear." Judith Lyman took a sip of tea and tried to hide the fact that she was smiling. Like his father, Josh had never been very good at apologies. He tended to avoid the subject as long as possible and finally just keep talking until something that sounded vaguely like "I'm sorry" came out of his mouth.

"Yeah," Josh said, "him." He glanced at Donna, sitting next to him on the couch, as though he hoped that she would take over and make the apology for him. Instead, she just smiled serenely and patted his hand. "I guess he must be okay if *you* like him."

"He is," Judith said. "And I like him very much indeed."

Josh grimaced, as though that was too much information.

"Anyway, Mom," he continued, "I never want you to be unhappy. And I just wanted to tell you that it's okay with me if you want to date this guy."

"You know, son," Judith replied, "I don't recall asking for your permission." This time she couldn't hide her laughter as she and Donna exchanged amused glances.

Josh, obviously frustrated, ran a hand through his hair. "Damn it, Mom," he said, "I'm trying to take the high road here!"

"I appreciate the effort," she said with a smile, "but you can try just a little harder."

"If it helps, Judith," Donna said, grinning, "the two of us had a long talk about it last night and he really does get it."

"Oh, I knew he'd understand eventually," Judith replied. "But he's so much like Noah; he has to have his little blow-up and *then* reason everything out."

"Hey!" Josh said. "I'm still in the room, you know." He smiled at his mother and added, "Although if the worst thing you can say about me is that I'm like Dad, I guess I'm doing okay."

Judith walked over to her son and kissed his cheek. "You're more than okay, Joshua."

Her son, one of the most powerful men in the country, was blushing in response to her simple compliment. "Well, you know," he said, "I just want you to be happy. And I guess I should meet this guy. Nicholas. I should meet Nicholas."

"Good," Judith said, "I'll bring him along to Claudia Jean's wedding."

"Great," Josh groaned. "Cause if there's one thing I'm looking forward to, it's CJ giving me a hard time because my mother is dating."

CUT TO:

INT. OVAL OFFICE

SATURDAY MORNING

"There's an interesting story in the Post this morning, sir," Josh said.

"Is there?" Matt Santos replied as he glanced at the day's schedule. He motioned for Josh to take a seat. "What about?"

"Anita Morales," Josh replied. "It seems she talked to a reporter named Maisie Harlow."

The President repeated the name. "I don't think I've met her."

"No, sir, she's not part of the White House press corps. In fact, this is her first big story. Until recently, she was working as a researcher, mostly for Danny Concannon."

"Is that so?" Matt Santos smiled. "Isn't he marrying CJ Cregg?"

"As a matter of fact, CJ called earlier this week to invite Donna and me to the wedding. Interesting timing, don't you think?" 

"Because CJ's fiancé’s former researcher was contacting Anita? Stranger things have happened."

"Yes, sir." Josh grinned. "By the way, aren't you interested in what Ms. Morales told The Post?"

"Knowing Anita, I'm sure she simply told the truth."

"Yes, she did." Josh's grin turned into a full-dimpled smile. "And now the cable news networks are all quoting The Post article." 

"Well, that's the beauty of a free press," the President said. "Eventually, the truth does come out."

Josh motioned in the direction of his office. "I have a senior staff meeting. Is there anything else you need, sir?"

Shaking his head, the President dismissed Josh. After Josh left, Matt Santos started to read to read The Post. He smiled to himself at the complicated maneuvering they'd gone through in getting the free press to work properly. "From Donna and Helen to CJ Cregg and Danny Concannon to Maisie Harlow to Anita," he muttered. He looked up to see Ronna standing by his desk.

"Is there something I need to sign?" he asked.

Ronna shook her head. "No, sir," she said. "There's something I need to give you."

He stared in surprise at the letter of resignation she handed to him. "What is this about?" he asked.

"There's a magazine article coming out about it, and it says some things about my personal life."

President Santos looked at her with concern. "Such as?" he asked.

"I'm gay."

"I knew that already. What else?"

"I've been in a relationship for a few months with Claire Carrick."

"Carrick?" he asked. "Is she any relation to Chris Carrick?"

"Yes, sir, she's his daughter," Ronna replied. She took a deep breath. "And she was the one who told the magazine that the President's personal secretary is a lesbian."

"And this is why you want to resign? Because your girlfriend—"

"Former girlfriend," Ronna corrected him.

"Because she told the press that you're gay?" Santos picked up the letter and tore it in half. "That's not a good enough reason to resign," he told her.

"Sir, I don't want my sexuality to be an issue," Ronna insisted. "I don't want it to be another distraction that the Right uses to keep you from accomplishing something while you're in office. I really think the best course is for me to resign."

"I disagree. I don't think it's a distraction," the President said. "Whether I'm the father of Anita's child, that's a distraction; it's gossip masquerading as news. But if the Right wants to make an issue out of my hiring you, I'm more than willing to fight them. The last time I checked, I was elected to serve as president for all Americans—not just straight Americans. I've known you longer than anyone else on my staff, Ronna, and you're the best person for the job. Who you love is your own business."

Ronna blushed. "Thank you, sir." 

"And, Ronna, whenever you feel comfortable enough with a woman to introduce her to me, I would love to meet her." He smiled and added, "Even if her father is a Republican."

CUT TO:

INT. RONNA'S APARTMENT

SATURDAY EVENING

Ronna threw her keys on the table and switched on the television. She grimaced as she saw who Larry King's guest was.

"Joining us tonight," King said, "is Senator Chris Carrick, whose journey from moderate Democrat to conservative Republican is the subject of his new book 'A Party of the Elite.' Good evening, Senator."

Claire's father smiled into the camera. "Good evening, Larry," he said, "and let me start the program off by correcting you. I may have found a home in the Republican party, but I still consider myself a moderate."

"Senator," King said, "before we discuss your book, I have to ask you about your daughter Claire. As you know, wire reports today are quoting a magazine article that claims she is gay."

Carrick looked into the camera again, this time wearing the expression of a concerned father. Ronna wondered how many hours he'd taken to perfect that look.

"Larry," he said, "I love Claire very much. Like any father, I only want the best for my child, and I'm saddened to find that she's chosen a lifestyle that can only bring her pain. But, you know, if there's one thing I've learned in my own political odyssey, it's that people can and do change for the better. That's what's really at the heart of my new book A Party of the Elite, and it's the message I want to bring to the American people."

Ronna muttered a few profanities under her breath and switched off the television. She was pouring herself a glass of wine when the phone rang. Afraid that it might be a reporter, she let the answering machine pick it up.

"Are you there?" Claire's voice was as clear as if she were standing next to Ronna. "You can't still be mad. Look, even if you are, pick up the phone. Or if you're not there, call me when you get in. I...Look, Ronna, what I'm saying is that I love you. I never meant to hurt you. Just please talk to me, will you?"

Ronna closed her eyes and tried to fight back the tears. As the answering machine shut off, the wine glass slipped out of her hand, shattering against the floor.

FADE TO BLACK


End file.
